August Summer
by Solitary Shadow
Summary: Tabuu has completely taken over. Where does that leave me? As August summer grows colder, death would be so much preferable...: AU Subspace Emissary, no OCs. Snake POV. Rated T for dark themes. Contains onesided slash, but no romantic contact. Done.
1. That Dark Summer

**Disclaimer:** SSBB belongs to Nintendo.

**Author's Note:** Right. I needed a short break from WtCB. So here's a new fic of mine. It's dark material, punctuated with dry, dark humour here and there. It'll probably be a three-part fic or something. It's in Snake's POV, with some quasi-philosophical ramblings and references to other universes. He's not a very reliable narrator - but listen to him.

This story will likely be kind of sad. It concerns an AU, futuristic version of the Subspace Emissary, where Tabuu succeeds and takes over the world of Smashers. It also makes very little sense. Kind of anti-war too, if you think about it - so it's not easy to read nor classify. But I promise that it will not disappoint. It may contain onesided slash, but not any contact.

* * *

_I do not know with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones._

_- Albert Einstein_

* * *

Well, of course that's what will happen.

Everyone out there's so god-damned conceited and foolish to think any different, aren't they? We brought this on ourselves.

All of this unspeakable tragedy was started when we started fighting amongst ourselves. It was fun at first. And it was all for sport, nothing more. There were no grudges against anyone from anyone else. It was just pure, clean fun, and when we finished the brawls, we simply shook each other's hands and said a few heartfelt words of encouragement. That was all. You wouldn't think it now, of course, but there was actually a time when the victor of a brawl would extend his hand and help the defeated to their feet. There was a time when the strong and weak alike sat down next to each other for a drink. All of this was watched over by two entities called Master Hand and Crazy Hand. They were forever in conflict, with Master Hand overseeing creation and Crazy Hand overseeing destruction; sounds pretty violent, no? Well, but in an odd, screwed-up way that I can't exactly explain, it was the very thing that made us stick by each other. It kept us progressing, kept us in harmony, kept us united. They were in perfect balance. Life couldn't be more simpler.

This world, the world of Smashers, is the supreme of them all. It is not the largest out of the millions of worlds in the universe, but is in the very centre, ruled over two heavenly entities. Occasionally, there are a few people who are specially invited to live here - they are the chosen ones. I was one of them. There were only forty or so of us. We could all get along with our normal lives, and meet other people from other worlds at the same time. We could all come and go.

We were happy.

But then it all went wrong.

You recall I said that Master Hand and Crazy Hand were forever in balance? Well, we didn't think it would ever be broken. They were such powerful entities, our gods... nobody expected it. Master Hand suddenly started to give out some extremely bizarre orders one day - and what was more, new creatures were appearing mere weeks later. Not Smashers (as we were called). They were hateful-looking, mass-produced bundles of machinery and mutated flesh that somehow gained sentinel properties.

Master Hand would never create them. _Never_.

It wasn't him in the end, it turned out. He had been enslaved by another being, called Tabuu, from the depths of a dark parallel world called Subspace - Master Hand, who we had believed was a god, was nothing compared to Tabuu. He used Master Hand as his puppet, and threw him away to die when he had no use for the stringed 'god' anymore. Crazy Hand disappeared - I think he was killed as well. Tabuu destroys a lot better than he ever did. No use having two gods of destruction.

We were confused and frightened. Eventually, stress levels reached extreme proportions - and you know what people are like. Think of caged mice; you lock them in a cage, you don't provide any explanations nor happiness, you don't give them enough provisions - whether it be food, water, or warmth - and they go mad. They attack each other. That's exactly what happened with the Smashers.

... You have no idea.

No idea at all.

You don't have a clue how I, as part of the Smashers myself, watched it all happen in front of me and felt sick and ashamed for every single creature alive.

...But then, it has been a while since I had a clue about anything. I'm a god-damn madman, I swear I am.

* * *

Today is the seventh of August. As of today, seventy-seven days have passed since Tabuu completely took over, and it has been seven months since the beginning of the invasion.

Kind of ironic, no? Seven is meant to be such a lucky number and all that. Everyone goes nuts when they look at it. Now look what's happened. There's no luck here. The Shadow Bugs have infiltrated nearly every corner of this world. We were all pulled into Subspace, under Tabuu's mercy, left to fight amongst ourselves and get killed... or something worse.

It's entirely dark in this place, you know. Light doesn't mean much here. Only stray crackling of elecricity and energy. Electricity can provide us with some light... and chemical energy in batteries, of course. But there is no sunlight. As I said before, the Shadow Bugs have covered every inch of the surface - even gathering in clusters around the edges of the Subspace in order to completely block out the sunlight.

It wasn't always dark and cold here, I swear it wasn't.

When that happened, and a couple of weeks passed since the complete obtrusion of the sun, extreme changes in the weather occurred. Nobody can go out there without protection and survive now. It's minus forty-five degrees Celsius outside, and it's likely to drop further. That doesn't bother those hateful creatures. It just makes me hate them even more. I suppose it hasn't helped that the occasional Subspace Bombs that Tabuu detonates have nuclear bomb-like properties. It's not really he needs those properties - Subspace Bombs have enough power without radioactivity. I just have a feeling he hates us all and wants every single creature wiped off the place.

Pardon my sarcasm. I was never a very social person.

Radioactive fallout contaminated with dark energy keeps on raining down, along with Shadow Bugs, and the bombed area gets instantly sucked into the depths of Subspace that will never be recovered again. Mass destruction and darkness in one.

... So what would have been a sunny, bright August summer...

... has been turned into nothing more than a freezing nuclear winter that rains Shadow Bugs from the sky.

Swell, eh? I can't say much, though, because all I've seen of it was from my camera screens.

My hideout is equipped with food, water, necessities and even electronic transmitters to last seventy years. Surprising, no? Technology is astounding. All this food cannot go rotten unless I open it, and they're all in nice, meal-sized packages. When I'm done, I can send the waste down a further few hundred metres. But it's not something I can be enthusiastic about, having _food_. Think about it. I am thirty years old. And I have enough nutrition to sustain me until I'm a hundred years old. I'm never going to live that long, though, am I? I highly doubt I'll last more than a couple of years at the most before I get fed up and top myself.

Think about that. My_ food _is going to outlast my _life_. How screwed-up is this?

My hideout has a supercomputer, comfortable sleeping quarters, ensuite bathroom, kitchen, and even a library full of books that I will never get through in fifty years even if I read five books a day (it's deep down in the earth, who else needs all that space?). I have plenty of oxygen. I can make my own electricity from the depths of the earth, even if they're all corrupted by Subspace. And the creatures can't attack me through those thick steel walls, nor do they bother. They can't waste time on a human being like me. Too busy flushing out traitors and looking for Smashers that have succumbed to the Shadow Bugs. And they wait. They can't feel, so they can wait. It's one of the best things they can do. Fifty years is a laughable amount to them. Eventually I'm going to die, and when that happens, I'm just another statistic to them. I mean absolutely _nothing_ to Tabuu and his creatures.

But the funny thing is...

My hideout is equipped with cameras. You heard that right. Cameras. Linking to thousands of meters above on the surface. Because of that, I could stay holed up in this prison without bars, watching life die out on the surface, watching the hellish skies above and not doing a damned thing about it.

Nine cameras, nine screens. All for the comfort (or the lack thereof) of myself. It was a gift - a cruel one - by the builders of this hideout.

Who were they, I hear you ask?

... It was Meta Knight and Otacon.

Otacon's real name was Hal Emmerich. A good friend of mine, he was, and he was the smartest guy you'd ever see in your lifetime. He was the kind of genius that only comes around every two hundred years or so. But he wasn't a Smasher - he lacked fighting skills and was mostly a pacifist. If he had to fight, he couldn't do it with his bare hands. This was perhaps his greatest downfall. I'll talk about that later.

Meta Knight, unlike Otacon, was a Smasher, and a very good one too. He was a mysterious and grim figure that even I was wary of in the beginning; yet we became fast friends, and as soon as we started to discuss the potential dangers of this world, he was the one who came up with the plot to create an underground hideaway. Should something dangerous happen, we could hide until it was all over. He only said this to Otacon, never told me what was going on - I have no idea how he managed to create such a secure hideout in such a short time. All I know is that the construction of this place began just three weeks before the invasion officially begun. It was complete in four months. He was an amazing Smasher.

Now Otacon was a smart guy. Not only was he a genius with machines and weapons, but he was good at sensing when something would happen. I suppose he knew that the fragile balance between Master Hand and Crazy Hand could not possibly last for a long time. The very day Master Hand turned strange, he and Meta Knight put their heads together and decided to build the hideout. I was only made aware when the construction had already begun and I could say nothing in protest.

I suppose I can't really blame either of them. Had they not predicted this, they would never have disobeyed strict laws and build something large as this place. It was an astronomical amount of work and money put into all this, I daresay - where did they get it from?

Simple. Otacon gathered large sums of money by illegal operations and hacking. He and a few more units were all in this together. Some of the money went into bribery - but most, to buy large amounts of materials so they could build this shelter. He would technically be the biggest scam artist and traitor of all time if he were back in our world. Meta Knight did his part too - did I mention that he had his own airship, the Halberd? With it he could carry all the materials needed without arousing suspicions, and he technically couldn't get searched for it. He'd even managed to capture the earliest prototypes of Tabuu's army and turn them into slaves to do the work. They were effective, too. When everything was done, and the construction was complete, they were destroyed and burnt.

All right then, you may ask, so where are those two _now_?

Well...

... Merely hours before Tabuu announced his complete and total takeover, we met for the last time in the Island of the Ancients. It was a surprisingly unemotional goodbye - Meta Knight informed me that only I was to stay within the bunker, with no emotion audible in his voice. He would not listen to reason. Otacon shook hands with me for the last time - "_Snake, you're our last hope_", he said - and then I was given two parachutes and the Halberd. The airship was programmed to cruise one last time, eventually crashing to the ground near the Ruins after it had flew in one perfect circle. I even passed by Master Hand's body during that voyage - it was left for those evil beings to kick and punch at, left to rot in the ground. I was to jump out when the warning alarms went at the right time - the hideout was located in the depths of the Forest, and I managed to get down safely. I only disposed of the parachutes when I got into the hideout, as not to leave a trail nor a hint of my whereabouts. The place was well-concealed by grass and foliage, and the cameras around it were made of non-corroding glass. They could clean themselves easily. Think of them... like windscreen wipers. Yeah.

I've not been out since. There was a manual here, along with a long letter, explaining everything to me. Seventy-seven days I've been stuck in this place, and all I've seen of outside was from the camera screens. I heard the screams of a Smasher (it was Link, I believe) as he was brutally attacked and life drained out of him. I heard those creatures attacking all the good things. And I couldn't do anything about it. The other Smashers - thirty-odd of them - went into hiding. As soon as six or seven of them were killed and 'displayed' by Tabuu's minions, the rest all went into hiding. Meta Knight told me in the very last conversation we shared.

I know he's fallen now. He went out, all by himself, to try to fend off an army of Primids and R.O.B. sentries. No chance at all. He went down, and was the very last Smasher killed and made an example of by Tabuu. He died bravely, I heard. It's kind of hard to comprehend dying bravely - who wouldn't be afraid in death? I know I would be. And I'm the one who was specially trained not to be afraid of anything. What a terrible _waste_ of training.

As for Otacon? He promised that he would come and rescue me once he got back to our own world and brought reinforcements. But he never showed up. Rescue attempts from other worlds are thwarted the instant they enter Subspace. If you're not one of those creatures - I will call them the Subspace Army - or a Smasher for that matter, you have no protection whatsoever because you technically don't belong. It's not where you're meant to be. Smashers can fight and are naturally resistant to the overall atmosphere of Subspace to a certain degree, and last quite a time before they fall. Non-Smashers disintegrate the moment they enter the darkness. So I suppose Otacon is dead now. Even if he were alive - he knows survival rules better than I do, him being the geek he is - he still has no way to gain resistance from Subspace. No Smashers except for one escaped this place as far as I know, and how will they get to him anyway?

He's not the toughest person ever. The poor guy. I wonder where he is. He's not very likely to be alive right now. Him being the idiot he is, he probably tried to rush straight into the Subspace barrier and died straight away. I wonder if he thought of me, rotting in this place, when he met his demise. I wonder if he's happy up there in heaven. Perhaps he's found someone to love - he's never been really lucky in those matters - instead of worrying about a mad bugger like me.

Took merely seconds to kill him, I bet. And another two centuries may not produce another person like him.

* * *

It's strange. I keep on thinking about it. Meta Knight and Otacon, you know?

I feel so wicked for saying it, but I just can't get over how _selfish_ what they did was.

They left me. They got killed along with the dozens of people who tried in vain to liberate this world from Tabuu, along with the people who tried to help from the other worlds. They left with all of them.

Leaving me in an underground bunker with nine views of Hell to stare at.

The only thing that kept my solitary life somewhat bearable during those seventy-seven days had to be the wireless network. Tabuu has no control of it. It isn't hosted in this world - it's in the surrounding areas, just out of reach from Subspace. They're in places where Tabuu doesn't have any interest in conquering yet. The main station is situated in a place called 'Skyworld'. A very basic form of communication, perhaps considered a little too old-fashioned, but it's given me comfort. The supercomputer has no problem connecting to it. It doesn't have a formal name, but we all called it the 'World Net', back when you-know-who didn't exist and everything was fine. Simple and easy.

Since the invasion and complete takeover, the World Net was on fire. Blames, insults, rough threats... everyone was all divided by their origins, their gender, their abilities so that they could hurt each other even more. It wasn't just a 'brawl in words' - it was more than that, a war of its own, filled with rage and hate we could only unleash at each other.

I never joined in. All I did was watch the people trying to rip each other's heads off online. It was kind of _funny_, in a blank way, but extremely morbid - like watching caged mice tearing each other apart. It made me sick if I watched it more than a couple of hours at a time.

But I was still happy.

It persuaded me to stay optimistic. It convinced me that I wasn't the only one left in this place.

It was sad, though, watching such a grand project that aimed to link Smashers and the various worlds together simply falling apart, giving way to hate. That's what people are all like.

... However, it's not over from there. As the weeks passed, and summer darkened, more and more people disappeared from the network altogether. I had to accept the fact that Smashers that were in hiding were dying out - consumed by the Shadow Bugs, most likely. Or killed by fallout. I highly doubt that they _all_ made grand-scale bunkers underneath the ground to hide out. It's likely that the Shadow Bugs got through and killed them.

You want to know what happens when Smashers die? They get turned into trophies. With a nicely-shaped base. What's so terrible about _that_, I hear you wondering out aloud, but it is the worst fate anyone can have. Unlike a purely brawl-defeated trophy, those ones cannot be revived. And think of it. Those are often left uncollected and abandoned. If I went out there for a stroll, I will inevitably see one of those lying around. It'll kill me. You're staring into the eyes of a _dead_ person, in the form of a comical trophy that can never be brought to life again. Their lively poses mock their past lives. Even though they look just like ornaments, I know that they were Smashers in the past. The people you've shook hands with, the people you befriended... are nothing more than lifeless statues that stare blankly ahead. I fear that that was the fate of most Smashers out there.

But there's still hope.

I haven't yet said this, have I? Three days ago, I found a ray of hope in the form of a private site in the World Net. It's been quiet for a time, but now that a Smasher has put up a site, looking for survivors with the line 'Is there anybody out there?' - hell, you bet there is.

His name is Captain Falcon. I knew him quite well - a brash, loud racer and bounty hunter by profession. Yet he was a friendly man, a generous and kind-hearted man who I liked to brawl with often. He was surprised and delighted (as I was also) to be reunited with me, even though it was merely online. Turns out that he was actually hiding out in a bunker like mine that he built and constructed a year or so ago in the Ruins.

That's not all, either. There are a total of six survivors so far who have identified themselves in the site. Apart from Captain Falcon and I, there are four others, with varying abilities and well-matched skills:

There are two boys named Ness and Lucas. They were hiding in a specially constructed hideout, somewhere near the Canyon. They seem close; although very young, they are clever. They may potentially be the key to survival, as they are the youngest ones out of the six.

The third is an angel, named Pit. He's hiding out in the World Net station in Skyworld. I fought him twice before and found him strong and fairly sturdy. Pit's the one and only Smasher who actually managed to escape Subspace prior to Tabuu's complete takeover. He's an optimistic lad. He's not in a hideout, of course - he has been locked in the station, and he cannot escape. But he is an angel - he will find a way.

But the fourth survivor intrigues me the most. When he first came online, and looked into the screen nervously, I couldn't believe it. I knew him. I fought him. I never really talked of him much, but he's the younger brother of the most famous Smasher who ever existed. And he's so _different_ to the others.

His name is Luigi.

I never thought I'd meet _him_ here. My God!


	2. One Last Warmth

**Author's Note: **Man, this took a long time. After 'Within the Cardboard Box' was done, my brain just kind of shut off. And the exams. Horrible exams. I got good marks, so whew.

This has some Snake x Luigi in it. It's not the 'Snake/Luigi-loves-(the other)-but-I'm-not-going-to-say-they-do' kind of relationship that we all found in WtCB either. xD I realize that Snake's narrative gets more and more inane as time passes by. The story's unrealistic enough already - I mean, Snake finds his salvation and joy in the _Internet_? Wahey. But I kind of like this dystopian, nonsensical story too much already. Sue me.

But is it all kisses and smooching? Well, you'd be surprised.

* * *

It's a long time to be waiting, seventy years. Even when you know you have enough provisions, it doesn't make any difference. You're still utterly alone and nobody will help you. This must be what prisons feel like.

But I never expected _this_ to happen.

I suppose you want me to recall what happened to me for the past two weeks. Even though I usually record all my extremely messed-up thoughts - I used to do that even _before_ Tabuu - somehow, I don't want to.

... I'm sorry. I have a duty to record all of this, just to confirm that I'm alive... to see if anyone else, indeed, is out there. I'll try my best - but my God, the past two weeks have been _hell_. Looking back over my previous entry, I can't believe I was actually even that optimistic about the entire situation.

Today is the twentieth of August. As of today, ninety days have passed since Tabuu's takeover. It also has been thirteen days since my last entry. Back then, I detailed my overall situation and state of mind, and included the story of the five other Smashers I've met online.

One of them's the reason I'm feeling like this right now.

Want to know more? Alright. I'm going to explain.

Those survivors all had a unique personality. I haven't gone into too much detail about them, but I shall now.

Captain Falcon. A bounty hunter and racer. He was the one who gathered us all with his site. As I mentioned before, he was a man whom I loved to brawl with every now and then. During the last two weeks, I found that his shelter was located in the Island of the Ancients. I remember that the site itself was heavily bombarded when it was sucked into Subspace - a total of six hundred bombs exploded there, all at once. Even if Tabuu falls, it is extremely unlikely that the island will ever recover. I expressed concern about this, but he told me that he entered the island long after the bombs had been detonated and he was still alive and well. He told me the place was very close to Tabuu's hideaway and main control operations. I think that he was the only Smasher who actually contemplated taking down Tabuu's operations seriously. We all wanted it to happen, of course, but in my opinion, what was the point? All the other Smashers were dead except for us six.

Suppose we succeeded and Tabuu was defeated once and for all. Suppose we got rid of the Subspace Army and liberated this world. But what then? Were we going to try to lure in people from other worlds and create new Smashers by making them the 'chosen ones'? We didn't have that power, because Master Hand and Crazy Hand no longer existed. Even if we were the only ones alive, we couldn't possibly consider ourselves godlike beings like the two Hands. The best way of gathering every Smasher together would be to search for every single trophy, gather them, and pay our respects. Nothing can reawaken the dead, and if they're happier dead than being alive, then that's the way it should be.

I must admit, though, this really _isn't_ a cheerful thought. I should learn not to think.

The second one, Pit. He was the third Smasher to identify himself, apart from me and Falcon. I mentioned that he's not in Subspace at the present moment. It appears that Tabuu took note, and sealed off the World Net station he was seeking sanctuary in, locking him inside. But the last time I spoke to him, he didn't seem very worried about it. I suppose being an angel is very convenient that way. Why, he's over a hundred years old and doesn't look a year older than nineteen. To be honest, though, Pit's the best hope we have outside of Subspace. If he somehow figures out a way to get reinforcements in this world without killing anyone, there's just a chance we might become free. He can even access the World Net whenever he wants, and can keep us updated with information. If he escapes the station, then all for the better - that will allow him to travel through many other worlds and spread the news. However, the truth is that he's nowhere near to doing his great part for the liberation of the World of Smashers than any of us are.

Third. Lucas and Ness. I didn't know if they were meant to be brothers or just friends at first glance - but it's apparent that they are not. They're two boys who happen to be best friends and stuck together all the time. One extremely notable thing about them is that they're both psychic; I wouldn't have thought it, but they can actually sense what we're thinking when we're all gathered together, gazing into camera screens. Obviously psychic powers work online. Never would have thought _that_ possible. They're only boys, but I think they're our next hope (apart from Pit). They're probably going to outlive us - I think their location has fewer Shadow Bugs than anywhere else, and almost no creature from the Subspace Army actually keeps watch there. It's just too isolated and dangerous for anybody, Smashers and the Subspace Army alike. They're in a good location, and although their hideout is no large-scale bunker, they have enough sustenance and space. Most of all, they have each other for company. A privilege nobody else can enjoy.

Finally, Luigi.

Where do I begin?

At first glance, he was nothing special. It wasn't as if he was extremely skilled, or out of this world. But Luigi intrigued me. He was a gentle, timid little thing - he told me that he was twenty-two years old. Old enough to know solitude, yet not old enough to face it alone. Twenty-two is barely out of adolescence. He was the younger, I daresay overshadowed, brother of a certain red-clad plumber we all knew as Mario. I remember that Mario was extremely confident and outgoing, and perhaps more knowledgeable in terms of both fighting skills and ways of life. But I don't ever recall feeling a lot of fondness for him - it's the kind of dislike you get for celebrities, you know? You somehow idolize them, even the hateful ones, but there's always an element that really gets on your nerves.

Don't get me wrong. Mario was a great Smasher. It's just that after the meaningful conversations I shared with Luigi - in what was a too-short time for us - I don't feel that his actions towards his younger brother can ever be excused.

Luigi was the polar opposite of Mario. He was clad in green instead of red, was passive instead of competitive, and was extremely quiet compared to his older brother. Mario always kept him in the back, away from the spotlight - but in my opinion, Luigi deserved so much _more_. I fought him a few times, and I remember that he was actually very strong, with powers not even people from his own world could comprehend. Perhaps it was his continued isolation that made him so pale and silent.

When the survivors were all done recounting their stories and progress for the day, and went offline to engage in other activities, Luigi and I would often remain online for a long time, sometimes well into dawn. We talked - not about our present situation, not about Tabuu nor the Subspace Army, but what life used to be like for us. I think Luigi was the only one (apart from me) who had an extremely large shelter to hide in. And by coincidence, I found that he was also hiding in the forest area, not far away from my location. He told me that Mario had built the grand-scale bunker that he was hiding in especially for his use. They were superstars back in their world, with an astounding income, and I can safely estimate that Mario had enough money and materials available to create a shelter without resorting to illegal means (like Otacon and Meta Knight did). Unlike me, who was informed that I would remain alone in this place only at the very last minute, Luigi knew all along that Mario would not join him in his hideout. He believed that it was Mario's good heart that made him make such a decision - I think that was not the case at all. But I let Luigi think that anyway. I didn't want to make him any more unhappy than he already was.

Mario must have built the bunker with the selfish thought that only Luigi must survive.

Not even considering the loneliness and eventual insanity that the ones left behind suffer.

Luigi thought that Mario cared all the time. Absolute _rubbish_ if you ask me. Mario died along with the other Smashers, as far as I know, and left this world along with dozens of others, such as his beloved Princess Peach. He left his younger brother behind to fend for himself and die alone. Some older brother, eh?

Although Luigi talked well (though only to me), it was obvious that he had become severely depressed during his time in the bunker. He cried often; he often broke down in tears whilst listening to the other Smashers, and he would gaze at my image with sad eyes when we talked together in a private chatroom. It was a terribly sad sight - but one that I could do nothing about.

But just three days prior to today, he went _way_ too far.

* * *

I suppose I can't actually blame him. Depression must have eaten away at him for weeks. And from what I know, Luigi was never a very strong-willed soul. The poor thing. But three days ago, I had logged into the World Net at precisely eleven-thirty p.m. Of course, I had talked to the other Smashers before that in our daily meetings. No, I waited until everyone had gone to sleep, and then went back to talk to Luigi.

He was there, waiting for me, his face paler and thinner than the day before; he didn't seem to be nourishing himself very well at all. That worried me. I mean... how could we do without survivors? There were only six; not quite enough to accomplish anything or even reassure ourselves that hope was still out there. Luigi was in the worst of health out of all of us, not physically but mentally, and I was extremely worried about him. When he looked at the screen as I logged in, I saw his eyes light up slightly. I daresay I may have been what he was waiting for all this time. I'd like to think that I played an important part in his life at this moment of time. We talked for a few minutes - I shall reproduce the log here from my memory, because I'm not anywhere near my own supercomputer at the moment.

_Hey,_ I typed. _you feeling okay?_

_No. I've never been worse. _Came his reply. I bit my lip, working out what I should say. Finally I just opted for the ambiguous.

_Why is that?_

He took one full minute to answer.

_I don't want to be here anymore. I'm sick of being here by myself. It's not fair, Snake, that I'm the only one who's managed to survive out of everyone from our world._

Survivor's guilt. Of course. Should have realized it much sooner. A terrible mistake on my part. That must have made him so much worse. To be honest, I didn't actually know that he was suffering like this even then. It only occurred to me after this conversation that he was in need of urgent help.

_Why couldn't I have gone instead of the others? Like Mario? He could have had a chance to live and make this world free again... not like me... _The words were still being typed in. I sat there in silence. _I just feel so useless! Oh, Snake, I can't stand it anymore..._

He stopped typing and buried his head into his arms, shoulders shaking; he was crying yet again. I felt horrible for doing that to him. Hadn't he suffered enough? But I said something that was apparently extremely unconvincing and unhelpful instead. How I regret it now.

_Don't lose hope. Be glad you're alive, Luigi. You're not useless!_

And then Luigi hit the nail on the head.

... _I... I want to die..._

That was where I snapped and stopped thinking logically. I cared about him too much at that point. I decided to go outside and save him.

* * *

Honestly.

What in the world was I _thinking_?

It makes very little sense now, that I'm thinking clearly again. I should have waited until his mood had eased a little - or at the very least, I should have informed him that I was coming to fetch him from his hideaway. I didn't do either of those things, and I believe it was my fault that all of this mess happened. I literally packed two days' worth of supplies into a bag, and put on a special suit that deflected all radiation and offered protection from Shadow Bugs and the Subspace Army. Thickly insulated, yet light - it also served as a camouflage suit. I'm used to wearing those things. Otacon designed it for me. After that, I wandered off in the direction of Luigi's bunker. Simple as that.

But...

Think about it. If all went well, I could have taken him to my own hideout. Seventy years of supplies shortened down to thirty-five. A much more realistic target for me. We would both have a companion. I had brought a second suit to protect him during the short journey. I could have held him close, comforted him during the endless nights of loneliness and sorrow... I could have kissed his tears away, make it seem all so much better. I could have held him during nights, let him cuddle up to me in my bed - I could have _loved_ him for as long as we lived.

Luigi had not known true love in the short time he had been alive; all he'd gotten was motherly care (for an even shorter time), along with conceit and selfishness thinly disguised as sibling love. I wanted to teach him what love really meant. I don't believe in love at first sight; yet when I talked to him for a few times, I found myself falling for him. I can't explain _why_. Either I'm a lot more twisted than I thought - or I was simply going crazy with loneliness without my knowledge.

But can anyone really blame me?

I was lonely. I'm thirty years old now and already have experienced far too much solitude. I was trained to deal with it - but even that can only last for so long. Nobody can live alone - nobody _deserves_ to live alone. You leave someone without anyone for a long time and they go crazy. I was never a social person, preferring to keep to myself; but when the Smashers died off and Tabuu took over, I suppose that my longing to be with someone worsened.

And to be honest, Luigi was a very interesting Smasher. Although he wasn't as 'dashing' as Smashers like Marth and Ike were supposed to be, and he didn't have any astrounding features like Pit had, he was highly intelligent and a deep thinker. I admire that in people. He was willing to listen more than talk, and always would offer sensible suggestions to some of my problems. Not to mention that he was quite handsome - he was slender with a rather sweet face, his facial features soft, and he was always well-groomed. His face somehow managed to retain childlike innocence and that boyish softness, while looking mature and gentlemanly at the same time. And his eyes were the most beautiful I'd ever seen. They were coloured a clear sapphire - it's not a very common colour at all, but that was nothing compared to the way his eyes looked at me. Sure enough, he had lost what little smile he'd possessed prior to the invasion, and his expression had turned more pessimistic. Sure, he had dark circles underneath his eyes, and had developed a nervous twitch. But his eyes still held some life in them - I was overwhelmed with that. That life gave me brief hope.

I probably counted on it just a little too much.

Lastly, he had a gentle personality that never failed to win me over. Luigi was always polite, always kind and caring, and I appreciated that. Kindness is few and far between those days, and whenever you find one, it's always a pleasant surprise.

Can you blame me for falling in love with him?

Of course, I'd never have forced him to do anything. If he didn't feel the same way, I'd just keep it quiet and enjoy his companionship. Concealing feelings - not a hard job for me. I'd never have forced him to become my lover. God knows, I've lived long enough to realize that you can't magically create love out of thin air. If he didn't love me, I certainly wasn't going to sulk and moan about it. It would have been more than enough to just have him close to me, let his head rest in my arms and feel his heart beating next to me. It would have... made me feel _alive_, more alive than I had ever been in those thirty years of my life.

I knew, though, that the love I'd ever receive from him - if he even returned a little of what I felt - wouldn't be the usual sweetheart-type of love that many people experience. There wouldn't be any candlelit, romantic dinners or dates by the moonlight like lovers often share. But that didn't matter. And I'm not even sure if I was looking for that kind of love anyway. I was looking for a definite, both physical and mental confirmation that we just _needed_ each other to rely on. I wanted to _live_ - live through the love I could feel for someone. I wanted to protect someone for once, instead of killing them or hurting them. I'd had too much of that.

As Otacon asked me once - can love bloom in the battlefield?

This is no battle, in my opinion, because the Smashers cannot fight now; yet amongst our enemies and cruelty that befalls us, I rather believe that love still came to me. So yes. I think that can happen. You've finally got a perfectly direct answer from me, sans all my twisted ramblings, Otacon - wherever you are.

* * *

I needed someone. And perhaps, just perhaps, I was deluded enough to think Luigi needed me to need him in return. I wanted him - I would have done anything for him, and that was the reason why I ventured out into the unknown on a cold, dark journey across the forest. I hadn't been outside for more than ten weeks.

So what was the outside like, you ask? It was dark. All I can say. Dark, cold, and very miserable in general. I saw the Shadow Bugs teeming around in the sky, falling down and melting into thin air as I walked by. Fallout had decreased greatly; I had begun to think that the nuclear radiation had achieved a certain amount of stability. But it would be years and years before the radiation levels dropped to more tolerable levels. It was a good thing that the suit protected me completely from radiation and the Shadow Bugs. It was also equipped with a few gadgets that enabled me to find my way to Luigi's shelter.

I reached the hideout after two days' travelling. I had to type in a password on a hologram-based keypad on the ground - not too difficult, as previously, all survivors had to make their bunker passwords known to the others in case something happened. I knew all the passwords of the other hideouts - it was highly unlikely that I'd ever go to one, I had theorized back then, but perhaps I'd been wrong. When the doors slid open beneath me, I could see a series of rungs leading to the main bunker.

So what did I do? I went down the ladder and ended up in a a chamber that sterilized all traces of radiation from my suit and bag. It was a rather strange experience - it wasn't anything like I'd expected. I'd expected to be quarantined for at least four hours before I was allowed through - but it turned out rather different. I was simply sprayed with a powder-like substance that removed fallout and counteracted against radiation. Technology, eh? I can never get to grips with it, although I need to be in constant touch with it - perhaps more than anyone else.

Irony is such a bitch.

Luigi's shelter had a more mechanical look to it. It wasn't very homely at all compared to mine. I suppose the institutional look that the bunker possessed didn't do much to help Luigi's depression. It, however, had a similar layout to my hideout - the main rooms were in the centre, while the outer rooms served as countermeasures against intruders and housed certain functions that kept this place going. I worked my way through the rooms to the centre, murmuring to myself that all would be better soon, I was near him now, and everything would be all right. That was about five hours ago.

But when I went in the main control room...

... where a cold, frightened and lonely Luigi should have been sitting in...

...

... one-sixth of the total Smasher population hung by his neck from the ceiling, silent, unmoving - dead.


	3. A Grand Guignol Finale

**Author's Note:** This was neglected for a long time because of writer's block and other stressful things, but at least it's now done. Sorry for the wait, guys. I suck at times like those. x.x

August Summer is now over. This is the third part to the story, and let me tell you now, most of it isn't pretty at all. Solid Snake gets more and more crazed as time passes by. This is the longest chapter in the series, and was incredibly hard to write. However, I'm so pleased with it that it's just made me happier than before, although the story is nowhere near happy. This has loads of Snake x Luiginess, so please be warned before reading.

Except more from me later on when my exams are done. And perhaps, just perhaps, 'Within the Cardboard Box' may receive a rather... _special_... chapter soon...

* * *

He was... flying away.

Luigi was flying away into the distance - leaving the doomed ones behind in Subspace.

And you know something? He looked so unbearably _happy_, happy at last in death, that I couldn't stop myself falling to my knees and crying for him. Wept for damn near an hour, I bet. A sign of weakness, my superiors might have said with disdain back where I originally came from; mercenaries don't cry, right? They don't show emotions. Even when they feel like their heart is breaking, they should just get on with their mission and hopefully be able to forget about it later on.

Well, there aren't any superiors for me to go back to. And this wasn't anything I could ever forget. Otacon might have comforted me, but he's gone. This is no mission - at least in one of those you can kid yourself that you're only doing your part, and there are always going to be factors you can't control. At least you can take the blame off your shoulders. I went to Luigi's shelter of my own will, to try to assure myself that I could rescue someone and love them - but I couldn't do even that. Screw the mission, screw all I was ever taught - I suppose all those emotions made me lose control as soon as I saw him hanging there, completely lifeless. It was just so sudden; I don't think I've cried so hard in my life.

Luigi was the only thing I wanted to protect from this cruel world; he was the only being I'd loved in the romantic sense. Even with all my training, I couldn't save him. You'd think that after all those years of fighting and killing, your heart would harden and your emotions would dry up, right? Well, I wasn't like that. I was surprised at myself and my own ability to cry. I'd thought I lost it years ago. I couldn't believe he'd left me, just like that, without so much as a goodbye or a note.

After all that, I got up and freed him from the rope. He looked so happy and peaceful in my arms that I had to fight back my tears again. But you know something strange? He never turned into a trophy. I think that was because of the lack of the Shadow Bugs. Either that, or - do I dare to say it? - because his death was due to suicide. Being turned into a trophy after death is the norm in this world. No mess to clean up. No body left rotting. Neat, eh? That's the 'natural' way of dying in this place. But Luigi... being as alone as he was, and being as depressed, his death was nothing that could be called '_natural_'. That was probably why he stayed as he was, a cold shell of the person he once had been, breathless and lifeless. I looked at him closely for a couple of minutes after cutting the rope and holding him - despite Luigi's claim that he was twenty-two years old, judging by his looks he could have been even younger. He was hardly more than a boy. But I would never really know.

I could have just left him there. But I couldn't do that. So that's what I did for the past few days. I stayed here to stand watch over his body, to calm me down, to at least comfort myself with the notion that he didn't suffer long.

I stood vigil over him for two days. I moved him into his room, laid him out on the bed, pulled a chair over and that was just it. I talked to him, touched his cold cheek, held his hand - I told him that I'd longed for his company, that I'd grown to love him during that short time. Luigi lay there, his hands softly resting on his chest, unable to hear me or answer - but it didn't matter much. He was finally near me; I could touch him and see that he was real instead of a mere figment of my imagination. I talked softly of all the things we could have done together, and how it could never happen now.

As depressing as it all was, I think that helped my mind ease just a little.

Luigi was dressed in his best as always, and I could see that he had washed and shaved before his death. With the prim appearence, and one soft, beautiful smile on his lips, he could have been sleeping. Of course if you tried to lift him, his neck would have lolled back in a rather grotesque manner; but I have to emphasize my point again anyway. He was a delicate creature even in death; I'd never seen such a beautiful thing in my life. Had he been alive, and had I rescued him in time - why, it would have been just us, lying together in the bed in silence - not caring twopence about the chaos and despair above us. Yeah. Just me and him, not worrying about anything, wrapped around each other... and us just _lying_ there.

Did I do anything else? Not really. Just laid him out and watched over him. But I _did_ do something - something that would be so innocent at first glance, but what most would consider forbidden contact between two men. I kissed him once, on the lips, biding him farewell and wishing him eternal peace; I wanted him to feel that I loved him. That was all.

I didn't eat much during those two days. Nor did I really do much else apart from talking, bending down to sleep whenever I felt exhausted and stroking Luigi's hair between my fingers while I talked half to him and half to myself. I could have left earlier, but I didn't do that. I _couldn't _have done that. It was still a shock, knowing that he was never going to talk to me again, and I wanted to let myself calm down a little. Without letting myself accept his death to a certain degree (at least), I probably wouldn't have managed to grasp my bearings out there.

So what did I do after the two days, I hear you ask. The truth is that I just wanted to stay there. There were provisions available in that shelter as well, so technically, I could have stayed quite comfortably in that hideout without developing any problems. But if I had stayed longer, I knew deep inside that I wouldn't have been able to bear it, because-

Because what?

Because I was afraid. Although I was devastated by Luigi's death, a small part of me was envious of him; because he freed himself from this cruel world and I couldn't. If I'd stayed any longer, I don't know what I might have done. I might have killed myself, in a similar fashion to Luigi, and what would have happened to me then? No one was going to cut the rope for me, don't you agree?

And you know what... I was scared. Scared of dying. Scared that every breath I took would be my last. But at the same time, I was feeling frightened by the concept of life; the fact that I could even be left alone, all by myself, in this hellish world. Scared that I would no longer have anyone left in my life.

Scared of being the sole survivor. That's it. I didn't want to die, but I didn't want to live either - not like this.

But I left the shelter after stocking up on more provisions. I felt quite guilty, taking stuff from Luigi's hideout - even though he wouldn't have minded anyhow - it just felt like I was disrespecting the dead. And yet I had to do it, for my own survival. I also packed some of Luigi's minor belongings in my backpack (his hat was one of them), just to keep myself reminded of him. There was a photo of him in his bedroom and I took that as well. Stealing from the dead, huh - it certainly wasn't the first time I've done it, for I had gone through dead soldiers' pockets before in an attempt to find any relavent information, but this was the first time I felt like I should have from the very beginning. I felt ashamed and disgusted at myself for doing so, but I just couldn't help myself because I had needed Luigi so damn _much_. Now that he was gone, his belongings were the only things that I could take with me.

What did I do with his body? Well, I didn't give him a burial. I wasn't going to bury him in that corrupted soil, nor could I afford to with the Subspace Army around. No, what I did was to simply leave him there, lying on his bed, neat and dignified. After suffering so much, it was what he would have wanted.

... That was my way of letting one-sixth of the population go in peace. Yeah.

So this is what I'm doing now. Walking back to my hideout. Luigi's shelter will now remain sealed for ever, lasting for thousands of years until the metal structures corrode and break down, burying all inside. But then, what would have happened to us? We'd be long dead by then. I doubt that even Tabuu will last that long.

Somehow, I should say, the road back to my hideout feels a lot longer and a lot more dangerous than before. And perhaps, just perhaps, I want it to be like that. If I were attacked right now, I wouldn't put up a fight - what's the point anyway?

Today's the twenty-third of August. Ninety-three days since Tabuu took over, and three days since my last entry. It's also been one day since I left Luigi's bunker for my own. It's not far at all - a few dozen miles, and it's not too much a distance to walk - but oh, sometimes even that distance is so long.

* * *

...

This is it. This is the end.

I'm back in my hideout, on the twenty-fourth of August, ninety-four days since Tabuu's takeover.

I got back and I found that I screwed up _again_.

You see, I didn't actually notify anybody (let alone Luigi) of my departure. I hadn't left any messages for the survivors to read online. I'd been gone six days, and the others - who knew nothing of my quest to find Luigi - wouldn't have heard from me in all that time.

So I logged in as fast as possible, trying to explain that I was in fact away for a little while, had just gotten back, and how sorry I was. But I wasn't in a casual setting like I would have been in half a year ago, get it? It wasn't just a matter of saying that I was away for a while and ending it there. I was a survivor. If they lost contact with me... it would have been too terrible to imagine. In their perspective, I would have been the first survivor to disappear from the network - meaning death.

But when I logged in and checked the chatrooms...

... only one person remained.

Captain Falcon.

I was biting my lip so hard that I _bled_ when I saw that. Everyone should have been online at that time. So why was only Captain Falcon there? I hurriedly sent him a request saying that I wanted to talk; he responded within seconds, and then we were talking through video screens.

From the very beginning, I could see that there was something very, very wrong with him.

His helmet was off and lying askew on the ground. He was slouched on his chair, his features pained and twisted, and his skin seemed pale and pasty - like he hadn't been nourished for a while. He was also breathing rather erratically from what I could hear from the speakers. It reminded me exactly of the symptoms of Shadow Bug infestation. But his eyes lit up when he noticed me, and that gave me hope.

He told me that he'd thought that I had perished during the last few days. I apologized for my mistake, said that I had gone to rescue Luigi - but had failed. Captain Falcon at least had the decency to be delicate about the issue, and carefully asked me whether Luigi had managed to survive. I had to say no, of course, although it still pained me greatly. When asked whether he had gone in comfort, I responded... well...

... that he'd looked peaceful enough. That was it.

Whilst this conversation was going on, Captain Falcon suddenly began to cough violently - and I could see that he was indeed very ill. I told him to take a rest, that we would talk later, but he brushed off that remark as if he had never heard me and began talking about something else.

That's right. The other three survivors.

According to him, I was the one who had disappeared off the network first. Luigi had been online a day before his death (and the day I had departed my shelter), Falcon told me, and he had only stayed for a few minutes before logging off in tears. Falcon didn't know why at the time and would never find out; but I understood. Luigi had seen that I had not come online, and in his already-suicidal and depressed state, had immediately assumed the worst. Apparently none of the survivors (excepting Luigi) were too concerned that first day, dismissing my absence as something trivial.

But the second day was what pushed them over the edge. Luigi, as you would have figured out, did not come online. I didn't either, because at that time I was too busy weeping over his dead body. Now let us just put ourselves in the others' point of view - in the space of two days, two survivors out of six go missing. What does that mean in a desperate situation like this? Less support, a drastically decreased chance of survival... and along with that, a sense of pure panic and doom that they're next to go. It's no wonder everyone panicked.

Ness and Lucas, being only young boys, already had accumulated an immense amount of stress they didn't know how to deal with. When they assumed that Luigi and I wouldn't be returning, apparently both just lost it there and then. They both were in hysterics, trying desperately to believe that we would come back, but at the same time believing that we wouldn't. All that stress just exploded - Captain Falcon told me that Lucas was trying to reason with Ness, asking him to 'wait a few days' and give us time. Ness wasn't having it. In full view of Pit and Captain Falcon, the boys started a fight - that soon degenerated into a bloody brawl. Soon, both started using their psychic powers, and within seconds their connection was cut - Captain Falcon never saw them again. Being psychic doesn't help desperation and anger any more than being normal does, it seems. Perhaps even if I'd managed to bring Luigi to my shelter, we would have ended up like that. He was never very stable, and to be honest, neither am I.

How swiftly our best hopes died! Within two or three days, Captain Falcon and Pit were left alone, unaware of my survival, suddenly frightened and desperate. Both were trying to suss out what had happened, and trying to make plans. Even with all of us gone, I don't doubt that they eventually would have sorted out something - had not Pit gone insane.

Pit was locked in the World Net station, I've stated already - but Tabuu decided to eradicate Skyworld as a potential threat during the time I was away, it seems, and dragged everything into Subspace. So essentially, Pit had gotten nowhere, and he became trapped in Subspace as well. Not to mention that his supplies had nearly run out by that time. What with the knowledge that he once again became just another trapped Smasher, his draining oxygen and intense despair, I guess he just went insane. Apparently, he was thrashing around violently, screaming and begging to be let out. Not even Captain Falcon could calm him. Falcon even tried to calm Pit down by saying that he would come and rescue him, even though that wasn't plausible. It didn't work. Pit's connection was cut and he never came online again - and that was two days ago.

I'd barely taken it all in when Falcon started coughing again. And this time, he was coughing up blood.

He smiled weakly as I anxiously called to him, inquiring whether he was all right; all stupid questions, I know. Falcon was obviously _not_ all right. I don't even know what prompted me to say something so idiotic.

Drawing in a rather raw, jagged breath, he told me that he had probably underestimated the power of the Shadow Bugs. He had built his shelter much too shallow, and now they were slowly getting to him. Within days he would be a trophy, and he knew it all too well. Hell, _I _knew it too well. But unlike him, I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to be the last person alive. It had barely been three weeks since we all met; how could it just end like this?

He didn't offer any last words or anything. He didn't even attempt to convince me that I would be all right. But then, if he had done so, it would have been terribly cruel for me; it would have made everything even more real, even more worse. However, Falcon did tell me one last thing (in a voice tinged with regret) - while Pit had been thrashing around in agony and despair, he had dislodged something in the main control rooms of the Station. Captain Falcon didn't know what precisely had been dislodged, nor could he ask Pit in his delusional state; but he could roughly guess. The main network cable had been twisted out of place. Within days, even the World Net would be inaccessible, and there would be nobody left to fix it.

We said our final goodbyes rather blankly. As if we didn't know it would be the very last time. He wished me well, and I did also, even though I knew too well that he wouldn't last three days in that condition. But when he signed off, saluting me to the very end, I leaned back and shut my eyes, grasping my head.

It's all over.

My worst nightmare has come true. Within days Captain Falcon will have suffered a horrible, messy death from the Shadow Bugs, and his hideout will be slowly consumed by Subspace as those bugs spread throughout the place. That will leave only me remaining. I've thought of it over and over again, for the past three hours, agonizing over what to do and what can be done in the future. The thought of all those Smashers, now all dead and gone (or left without any means of contact) in their respective hideouts, makes me sick; all those Smashers and the plans we'd made and the things we'd talked about and a hope that had never really existed in the first place...

... It's all gone now, and those people now lie inside their bunkers, their bodies cold and heavy.

Leaving me here.

So what'll become of me? Must I remain here, in this empty world, this doomed space all by myself? Solitude was a natural factor in my life, but not even the strongest of mercenaries can withstand this amount of solitude. It's _impossible_. When I think of Luigi, and what I could have had, everything falls apart. This is where everything become skewed, where the pieces don't fit together, and I am lost in my own despair.

Perhaps I was doomed to this fate from the very beginning. I had thought that Luigi was the answer to my problems, that he was my saviour - but what use is thinking about that now? My saviour is dead, lying out with his hands on his chest in a bed miles away from my hideout. He will never awaken. Some of his possessions I have with me now, but can I hold only on to them for the rest of my life? Can I stay here, deep under the ground, with the only proof of my life and love embodied in those things?

Sink or swim, I tell myself. Sink or swim, Snake. And it'd be unfair to say that I'm not trying, because I _am_. I'm trying to stay above the surface - but no matter how much I try, something _always_ pushes me down.

I can't keep up.

I have nothing left.

So what must I do now? I can't stay here, surrounded by Luigi's possessions all around me, as much as they offer temporary comfort. I feel Luigi everywhere; he's gone, ever so far away from me, but he's part of everything I brought over. His hat once adorned his head, fitting snugly around the soft brown locks. That's one example. And his photo - without it I wouldn't have been able to recall his sad, faraway smile, his blue eyes, his voice. Already his image inside my head is fading. Only what few things he had - and what I have now - serve as a reminder of whom I had talked to, whom I had touched mere days ago and whom I love still.

I know what I must do. And you have to help me on my way, Luigi. Bring me salvation. Give me peace. Help me to get where I need to, my love.

Solid Snake - the last Smasher alive - is the end. Let me leave all this behind. This world of Smashers is now doomed; and I no longer want any part in it.

I'm going back...

... back to when everyone was alive...

... back to when happiness reigned supreme.

Yes...

...

... back to that sunny August summer...

* * *

_An unusually light breeze swept over the forest. The silence, although the forest was quiet most of the time, appeared to be heavier than usual; not even the swarms of Shadow Bugs passed by the deserted area._

_A figure came walking through the trees._

_He was a tall man, with a set face and a blue bandanna tied around his head. His paces were slow and unconcerned, and as he walked, he was smiling almost blankly to himself. Twigs rustled under his feet as he made his way through the dark, deep woods - had there been anyone to see him, they would have thought that he was perfectly aware of himself and where he was going._

_This couldn't have been further away from the truth. _

_This man carried only a small shoulder bag. There seemed to be almost nothing in it, save for something square; he occasionally felt for the object, and smiled in satisfaction whenever he assured himself that he still had said possession in hand._

_After what seemed like eternity, he stopped at a clearing. _

_He took the square object from his bag, tossing the latter away into the trees. There was only him and his one possession there at that moment, and he stood for a long time, gazing at the object for a long time. It was a wooden picture frame, containing a photo of the only person that this man had ever been sure of in his life. He ran his fingers over the glass for a while, tracing the contours of the photo, murmuring something to himself. He appeared not to realize that the Shadow Bugs were closing in._

_But then he looked up from the photo, his silvery-grey eyes full of unspoken sadness. He gazed around himself with a sad smile - and then, closing his eyes, he looked to the sky and let out one final breath as the Shadow Bugs swarmed onto him. He did not struggle nor scream._

_When they were gone, nothing was left of the man - except for a small, golden-base trophy that lay facedown on the ground, and the photo frame. The glass had broken during the fall, and the remainder of it shone for a moment in the sudden flash of thunder that alighted the forest clearing. The heavy silence was broken, with the few members of the Subspace Army leaping out of their posts and checking that they were in no danger._

_But then the flash was gone, and then there was silence once more._


End file.
